The Casual Blog

    My niece’s wedding was perfect!  Well, maybe not perfect, but lovely, and a nice expression of her and her new husband’s tastes and aspirations.  The flowers, the dresses, the decorations, the food, the cake, the music — all beautiful. Having the ceremony on a beach in Santa Barbara was risky.  There could be members of the public who insisted on playing horse shoes throughout the ceremony (which there were) or trains barreling past sounding their horns (which there almost were).   But no one was too upset when a little kid knocked a toy ball under the bride’s train and dived in to retrieve it, or when couple of kids in swimsuits sat in the back row.  The sky was blue, the sea was calm, and the happy couple seemed well and fully in love.

    I was relieved that the clergyman kept his remarks brief and focused on the couple he was hitching. How unfortunate it is when preachers take weddings (and funerals) as marketing opportunities.  This one did not, and his remarks were warm and upbeat.  Of course, nobody knows what particular words might actually help two young people undertaking the awesome task of joining their separate lives.  In this case, at least, no harm was done, and maybe a little good.  

     Almost by definition, weddings idealize families, and at the same time they bring into focus the oddities and sorrows in the particular families at issue.  So it was here.  Estrangements,  old resentments, oddities, illnesses, old age, memories of the beloved departed.   Plenty of things we don’t like to talk about and would not be proud to celebrate.  Are there any perfect families?  It’s doubtful.  

      But it was good to focus as a big family on two young people and their aspirations.  Good to focus on the reality of love.  Whatever else St. Paul got wrong, he was right about this – love is the greatest!

Raleigh is frequently assumed to be a somewhat sleepy middle-size southern city, but from our new digs in the Glenwood South area it feels bigger and livelier.  Walking around the neighborhood, you hear foreign languages that you can’ identify.  You see lots of young women with long straight hair in sleek black dresses.  And if you’re observant, you’ll notice that there is a substantial gay population.

Sal picked up on the gay presence before I did.  It isn’t obtrusive or militant.  You don’t see black leather (except on apparently bona fide bikers) or feathered boas.  Mannerisms are not exaggerated.  Some of the male couples are on the borderline of straightness.  But it slowly sinks in that there are a surprising number of male couples in the restaurants and bars.

We hired an interior designer to help us avoid costly mistakes in fitting out the new condo, and guess what — he isn’t straight!  Working with Keith has been inspiring.  He is, in point of true fact, an artist — creative, driven, and visionary.  He clearly loves his work.  He’s also lively and funny.  

As Sal observed, this is something that most typical, mildly homophobic Americans don’t get:  gayness isn’t only, or even primarily, about sex.  There is nothing in that line to fear.  Your gay neighbors will, almost certainly, not attempt to seduce or molest you.  On the other hand, there’s a substantial up side.  From our New York days years ago, we learned that a gay community has a cultural vibrancy.  There’s more attention to how things look, sound, and smell.  There’s more interest in high art and low, more interest in clothes, more parties and clubs.  There’s also more interest in people, in their subtle cues, their beauty or oddity.  There’s tolerance, curiosity, creativity.  Of course, there are at times less admirable traits, just as in other communities.  But much of what I think of as the most meaningful and entertaining things about city life are things that gay communities bring to the mix.

Today’s New York Times has a front page piece on President Obama’s plan to commemorate the Stonewall riots that are considered the beginning of the modern gay civil rights movement. http://tiny.cc/ID7S6  As the piece notes, there’s increasing acceptance of gays in America, but there’s still a strong and at times frightening counter-current of homophobia.  Frank Rich’s column in the Week in Review is entitled “40 Years Later, Still Second-Class Americans.”    http://tiny.cc/5YUfR  It’s a good short history lesson.  Rich calls for the President to get off the fence and take serious action on gay civil rights.  That would be good.

The Times also has an interesting piece in the Styles section about relationships between gay and straight men._ http://tiny.cc/yCDrD   Not surprisingly, the story is mostly entertaining anecdotes, but there is an important message — such non-sexual friendships exist, and they count.  And it seems to be getting easier both to have these friendships and to acknowledge them publicly. 

When I read the Styles piece, I thought, as I frequently do, of my dear friend Tom, who died twenty years ago of complications from AIDS.  Tom was a brilliant guy who introduced me to lots of theories, literature, and  music, not to mention haute cuisine.  He inspired me to study political theory, to go to Paris, and to go to New York.  I first learned about Stonewall from him, and about the existence and meaning of the gay community.  

I also learned about the pre-AIDS downtown NY gay scene, in all its uninhibitedness.  Tom loved the baths and the clubs, and he had some shocking experiences.  At the time, I was an aspiring novelist, and Tom figured I could use the material.  I couldn’t, at least not for a book.  But I’m grateful for all the inspiration he gave me.  I’m sorry he’s gone.

Yesterday we closed on our new condo in downtown Raleigh.  Sal and I celebrated last night with a fine dinner at Solas, a place in our new neighborhood that has a distinctly L.A. vibe.  Our new home is filled with moving boxes and construction in progress, but it’s beautiful to me.   As of yesterday afternoon, we have internet connectivity.  I’m writing this in the dining room on the twelfth floor  looking west at the city skyline.

This project has been a long time coming.  We put our deposit on the condo in December 2006 — before construction on the building had begun.  We put our Cary house on the market in July 2008.  There wasn’t a single offer until May 14 (when we got two offers in a single day).  The selling process, spanning the worst financial crisis in many decades, was slow and frustrating, but the last five weeks have gone at hyperspeed.  

Downsizing from 3,100 feet to 1,800 feet, we needed to offload lots of furniture and other possessions.  Some we sold, some we gave to charity, and some we junked.  We needed to arrange for house repairs, cleaning and moving out.  We needed to arrange for improvements to the new place (bookshelves, closets, audio-video, furniture, paint, etc.).  We needed to get the mortgage arrangements in place.  And there were dozens or hundreds of subtasks.

We did it!   I say we,  but really, it was an extended group effort.  Sal was amazing in handling the logistics.  And as she said last night, we dealt with a large number of individuals with a remarkable variety of skill sets.  Amazingly, almost everyone was as good as their word.  The real estate professionals, mortgage bankers, appraisers, inspectors, various repair people, various cleaners, yard care, interior design, carpentry and audio-video contractors, lawyers and paralegals, buyers of used furniture, and the rest all did what they said they would do.  

It was gratifying to get to know some of these people a bit, and to find so many of these people seemed to get a kick out of their work.  One of our movers was a high school math teacher who did moving in the summer, and said that he loved moving.  Our carpentry contractor loves working with wood.  Our audio-video guy clearly loves great sound.  Our lawyer admitted that real estate closings were primarily to pay the bills, but he seemed to enjoy our closing.  Good folks all.

I have to note specially the contributions of a few individuals.  Ann-Cabell, our seller’s agent, made this deal happen, first by figuring out that this place would be perfect for us, and then by refusing to let the deal fall apart.  Lynn was the sweetest, canniest real estate professional imaginable.  Keith came through with great design ideas that will make this space fit us.  The two Steves came through on schedule and on budget with excellent carpentry and audio.  The movers did a great job; we haven’t seen a single furniture scratch or broken glass.  

We were really fortunate to have had this team and these rewarding human contacts.  It feels exciting to begin this new phase.

    When we were much younger, my friend Henry proposed the following definition of middle age:  you know where all your warranty cards are.  How things change:  what once sounded dull now sounds impressive.  I have no hope of locating all my warranty cards.  But having just got back from a journey to San Francisco, Dallas, and D.C., I feel a quiet satisfaction that I forgot only one item I intended to pack (workout shorts), didn’t leave anything in a hotel room or plane seat, and never got lost.  I was on time for every meeting.  I nearly missed the flight out of Dallas because of a misunderstanding about adjusted schedules.  But all told, I managed competently.  

    How good to be home!  My wife’s smile is so sweet!  Our house is so comfortable and familiar!  But change is in the air.  Sally managed to sell the entertainment center ($375!), and so the audio system had to be disconnected.   With two weeks to go  before we move out, it isn’t clear that it’s worth the effort to hook it all up again.  It was more pain than expected to get the TV going again.  Why are there eighteen possible connections, only one of which actually works?

   Business travel is wearing, even with the benefits of nice hotels (loved the Ritz-Carlton) and jets.  My dad travelled more than week a month in his sales job for Norfolk Southern, and most of that  by car.  I thought it was a hard way to make a living.  He took me along a couple of times of multi-day sales  trips, first when I was about six.  The drives seemed endless, the waits for sales meetings seemed endless, and the meetings themselves seemed very dull.  Especially in the car, I disliked my dad’s smoking (Salems), but I assumed it was necessary to smoke in order to drive a car.  My favorite thing was staying in the Holiday Inn, where I got to stay up unusually late and watch TV.  I also liked eating fried shrimp and hamburgers. 

  As a kid, I assumed that my dad hated his long business trips.  He always seemed tired when he got home, and often grumpy.  At some point in my teen years, though, I asked him how he felt about his travelling.  He said he kind of liked it.  Probably true.

    Now that the sale of our house is less than three weeks out, we’re moving into high gear preparing for the move to our new condo in Raleigh at West at North.   One major project is off loading the still useful big items we won’t be needing in future.  Those included a drum set, an electric piano, a bedroom suite, another bed, a kitchen table with chairs, an entertainment center, an elaborate bookcase, and two oriental rugs.  

    In the last couple of weeks I’ve had success selling some of those items on Craig’s List.  Being new to Craig’s List, I spent some time climbing the learning curve, and expended some energy evaluating the market for used furniture and instruments.  But the bedroom furniture went in three days.  The drums and the piano took about a week.  The other stuff is still around, if anyone’s interested.  No reasonable offer will be refused.

   Craig’s List, as everyone knows, has had a hand in killing traditional newspapers, and for that I cannot love them.  But it’s easy to see why most everyone would prefer dealing with Craig’s List than dealing with traditional newspaper classifieds.  They’re cheaper (i.e. free), easier to make, easier to read, more reliable (with photos to scrutinize), and safer and more pleasant to use (with email and cellphone screens).  My dad, a lifelong classifieds addict, would have been hooked.

   One of the things I learned about Craig’s List is that everyone feels they must ask for a discount, though no one very much likes to do it.  Requested bargains were generally 10-15% off list.  I readily accepted every offered amount.  My no-bargaining approach would have disappointed my father, who taught me well how to bargain for the best price, but I calculated that total happiness would tend to be maximized in these cases by not pushing for the last dollar.

    The most unexpected aspect of my Craig’s List sales so far was how generally filled with happiness they were.  I expected to enjoy getting some additional dollars, which I was, but the non-monetary pleasure was much more interesting.  I’ve seen an interesting variety of people — among them, young guy moving into first apartment, young married couple in first home, dad getting something for daughter, bar owner getting instruments for open mike night.  And everyone has been courteous and friendly.  And everyone has been pleased with their new goods and the deal they obtained.  It’s really pleasant seeing your well loved but superseded possessions headed toward a good new home, where they may bring additional happiness.

   Another good thing:  Sally is completely delighted with all this.  She loves to see unneeded items heading out the door, to see extra cash flowing in, and see our fellow humans contended and behaving well.  She’s full of admiration for my apparent competence at this (to us) new enterprise.  

   It’s also been pleasant to deal with the guy-type problems that are very different from the intellectual problems that usually take most of my daily energy — problems like how to disassemble a bed frame, how to move a big bureau down the stairs, and how to tie a mattress on top of a car.  Cooperatively solving those kinds of puzzles is satisfying in itself, and reconnects one to one’s essential guyness.  I was reminded of the supreme competence of my dad in such practical matters (there never was a better packer of a car trunk), and found myself missing him.

Yesterday I did 24 pull-ups.  This equals my all time best from last December.   It’s difficult to note this fact without seeming to brag, and I hate bragging, but I note it anyway, because I myself find it hard to believe this is possible at age 53.  I could not have come close to this feat at age 24.  

I began doing pull-ups perhaps eight years ago.  Why?  I liked the combined simplicity and drama of the exercise.  Years ago there was a recruiting ad for the Marines that consisted mainly of a young man doing many pull-ups, and it made an impression.  I liked the fact and the symbol of pulling my own weight. Plus, it seemed like a good challenge.  But it was difficult.  My initial goal was ten, and I had reason to doubt that could ever be achieved.  Getting more than five took a while.  I remember hurting my wrists and giving up for a period when I got to nine.

Eventually when aiming for 10, I suddenly made it to 12.  I wondered what it would feel like to do 15.  When aiming for that, one day I did 17.  I started to wonder about 20.    

Recently I’ve been doing about 20 three times a week.  I cycle through  three different grips:  inward, front-facing, and back-facing.  My highest numbers are generally with the inward grip, and this was what I used yesterday.  I did the pull-ups after core exercises and 25 minutes of cardio, but before other upper-body resistance exercises.  My current goal is 25.  That should be enough.  We’ll see.